


in too deep to go back again

by chahakyn



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Blood, Buzzfeed Unsolved Format, Character Death Fix, Character Study, Gen, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved, Memory Loss, Minor Violence, No Incest, Number Five | The Boy Gets A Hug, October Prompt Challenge, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Season/Series 01, Prophet! Allison Hargreeves, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Sibling Bonding, TUActober 2020, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 16,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chahakyn/pseuds/chahakyn
Summary: Family BBQs are about to get really weird...(A collection of prompt fills for TUActober 2020)
Relationships: Allison Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Hazel/Agnes Rofa, Klaus Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Diego Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Luther Hargreeves, Number Five | The Boy & Vanya Hargreeves, Raymond Chestnut/Allison Hargreeves, Sissy Cooper/Vanya Hargreeves
Comments: 59
Kudos: 201





	1. (1) Doomsday

**Author's Note:**

> very excited to be attempting my first prompt fill event! i won't be able to do every single day, but i'm aiming to do as many as possible!
> 
> [ prompt list](https://totallyevan.tumblr.com/post/628500503088758784/and-were-right-back-where-we-started-same-weird) from the wonderful [ evan](https://totallyevan.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!
> 
> fic title is from [ A Good Song Never Dies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s29fcv5E52Y) by Saint Motel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siblings enjoy a small birthday celebration. (Pre-Season 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (doughnut flavor headcanons brought to you fresh from the oven that is my brain combined with [ apocofive's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocofive/pseuds/apocofive) ♡)

“Quick, close the door,” Allison whispers to Luther, beckoning him in frantically. Luther complies, wincing as the door rattles unsteadily on its hinges.

Diego snorts. “ _Real_ subtle. Try to remember we’re being sneaky here.”

“Hey, that’s not fair—"

“What’s not fair? Huh?” Diego leans forward, barely containing his excitement at the chance to rib at Luther. “Can’t handle a little big boy power?”

“Boys, boys, _please_ ,” Klaus interrupts, nonchalantly throwing his arm out to catch Luther in the chest. “It’s time for celebration, so we should be celebrating! Right?”

Luther hisses something under his breath, backing down. His eyes burn with muted anger as Diego flips him the finger before slinging his arm over Ben’s shoulder.

“We _would_ be celebrating,” Allison huffs, rolling her eyes. “But someone isn’t here yet. And he’s got the goods.”

“He’ll be here,” Vanya says, peering up at them from under her bangs. Her fingers twist nervously in her lap.

“He better be.” Diego frowns, picking at his fingernails with a knife. Ben leans away from the knife subtly, shooting Vanya an exaggeratedly fearful look with a smile. Vanya lets out a small giggle, covering her mouth with her hand before she sobers, glancing around at her siblings. They sit there in awkward silence, everyone looking hesitantly at each other as the minute tick by, never ceasing.

“This is stupid.” Luther makes a move to stand, only to be stopped by Allison’s hand gripping his wrist.

“Just wait for a little longer.”

“For what?” Luther gives her sharp look. “Dad was right, we’re too young for this.”

“Speak for yourself,” Klaus says with an easy smile on his face, though Vanya can feel how he’s tensed next to her. “Nobody is too old for doughnuts.”

“We’re too old for birthdays. What’s the point in them now?”

Allison stiffens. “Luther, please—"

“It’d be easier for us all if we just grew up and stopped hanging onto the stupid things in life,” Luther snaps, yanking his wrist out of Allison’s grip.

“That’s not fair,” Ben says quietly, gaze darting nervously between Luther and Allison. She shoots Luther a watery glare before rubbing her eyes angrily, scooting closer to Ben and farther away from Luther.

“Well, that’s what I think,” Luther mutters, turning to leave. His hand freezes on the doorknob as a familiar flash of electric blue lights up the dark room, the hair on everyone’s neck standing on edge. Five slips easily through the tear in space, landing lightly on his feet.

“Our dear brother! Fashionably late, how rude of you.” Klaus waves before crooking a finger at Five. “Doughnuts. Gimme.”

Five snorts. “Not on your life.” He shoves himself between Klaus and Vanya, elbowing Klaus’s arms out of the way as he sets the box down on the floor.

“Well? Gonne leave now or what?” Diego shoots Luther a challenging look before turning back to the box, reaching for it greedily. Luther releases the doorknob with a sigh, wrinkling his nose at the crumpled metal before moving to take his usual seat next to Allison. She silently hands him a cream-filled doughnut, taking a rather vicious bite out of her own cruller.

“Happy birthday, everyone,” Vanya declares quietly, shooting a nervous glance around at her siblings. Klaus lets out a quiet whoop, bumping his doughnut against Five’s violently enough that it hits Five’s face, smearing maple icing across his cheek.

“Klaus, Christ,” Five growls, shoving his thumb across his skin to wipe the icing away. Ben snorts through his chocolate doughnut, eyes curling into crescents as he chews through his silent laughter. Vanya presses her knee gently down against Five’s as his mouth opens, shooting him a pointed look. He stops, glancing back at her before relaxing.

“I’ll get him later,” he mutters under his breath, dimpling deepening as Vanya hides her smile behind her doughnut.

They all jump as the lights suddenly flick on, the familiar blare of the alarm inciting a rush of adrenaline in their veins.

“Really? This late?” Ben whines, shoving the rest of his doughnut in his mouth before chewing morosely. Diego snickers, poking Ben’s oversized cheek with his finger.

“Happy birthday to _us_ ,” Allison mutters under her breath, Five scoffing in response as he licks his fingers clean.

“Protect those doughnuts with your life, Vanya,” he says very seriously as he turns to look at Vanya, Ben nodding insistently behind him. “I’d like to enjoy another when we get back, if Luther or Klaus haven’t devoured them all by then.”

“We’d better get dressed, Dad’s gonna get us soon,” Luther says hurriedly, already up and halfway out the door.

“You’d think _every_ mission is Doomsday with how he and Dad act,” Diego snorts, brushing bits of glaze off his pants as he rises, shooting Luther a derisive look.

“Well, someday it might be,” Vanya says, her heart heavy and a strawberry doughnut still clutched between her fingers as she watches them all leave. Diego turns back, tilting his head at her as he gives her an odd look.

“I guess so.”

\---

Vanya’s eyes open, the constant hum of energy swirling around her in righteous fury as she stares into the empty childhood bedroom. The apocalypse is today, right _now_. And yet, there’s no alarm, no Dad here to alert her siblings, and no Luther to go charging headfirst into the fire.

She turns, wood exploding behind her as she walks down the hallway, out of the manor for the last time. They’re all missing Doomsday.

Oh well. Their loss.


	2. (3) Pinky Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five makes a promise to Vanya. (Pre-Season 1)

“I can’t fucking _take_ it anymore,” Five hisses, bedroom door slamming behind him.

Vanya reaches out. “Five—"

“I’ve told Dad that I can time travel. I _know_ I can.” The papers clutched between his fingers crumple, numbers and equations blurring into garbled slashes of ink across the page. “Why won’t he just _let me_?”

“You know why,” Vanya murmurs, hand falling awkwardly to her side. “It could be dangerous.”

Five laughs bitterly. “Like that’s ever stopped him. We fight fully-fledged criminals on a daily basis.” He looks down, smoothing out the wrinkles on the paper before pausing, gaze sharp as it suddenly travels across the page at breakneck speed.

“I’m going to show him. He can’t _stop_ me,” Five mutters, scrambling for a pencil as he hunches over his desk, still standing. He scratches notations into the margins, scrawl almost clumsy with excitement.

Vanya’s lips curl into a knowing smile as she settles herself on Five’s bed, legs tucked neatly beneath her. If she knows him (and she does, there’s no doubt about that), he’ll have something brilliant cooked up within the hour, ready to discuss the ideas that spill eagerly from his mind.

And Vanya knows she’ll be there when he’s got it all figured out, ready to drop everything to listen to him ramble. To see that ever-familiar gleam in his eyes, the one that burns bright with passion no matter how much Dad tries to stamp it out.

“A new idea?” Vanya hums, finger twisting around a loose thread on the bedspread.

“That and a change of plans. This time, I’m going to try it without his input. I’m going to time travel, whether he _approves_ it or not,” Five says, lip curling derisively. Vanya freezes, glancing at him.

“Now?”

“No, not yet.” He waves his hand carelessly. “The numbers are in the right direction but…not quite right. I’ll get there soon enough. And then I’ll be ready to do it.”

“How are you going to prove it to him when you succeed? You aren’t taking him with you,” Vanya says, flushing as Five gives her a thoughtful look. It’s rare, but sometimes she’ll bring up things Five hadn’t considered. And she can’t help but feel a flutter of pride at that, knowing that she’s useful to someone even as brilliant as Five.

“Good point. Maybe a newspaper. Or I’ll leave a note.” Five shrugs, giving her a lazy grin. “I can figure it out when I get there. I’ll have all the time in the world, after all.”

His smile stutters as he sees Vanya’s face fall.

“You don’t think it’s good,” he says quietly. Vanya shakes her head hastily.

“I think it’s good.”

Five sighs. “But…”

“But what if you go into the future and it’s better? What if you don’t want to come back?” Vanya tears her gaze away to stare down her knees. She doesn’t look up as Five scoffs, doesn’t look up as she feels him step closer to the bed.

“The future can’t offer me anything right now except the chance to prove Dad wrong. Once I have that, I’ll be back,” he says, his knee bumping gently against hers.

“You don’t know that.”

“ _Vanya_ —"

“I don’t want you to leave,” she blurts out, brushing her hair impatiently from her face as she looks up at Five. “I’m afraid you’re going to go away for good. Leave me behind.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“I have no one but you, Five,” she says quietly. “Please.”

“I’m not going to just _leave_ you,” he says scathingly. “Why would I?” he amends, tone gentler this time.  
“You make me better, and I’d be an idiot to ignore that. I won’t ever leave you behind.”

It’s a lie. Vanya can feel it, the hollow ache of truth nestled alongside the marrow in her bones. It’s nice of him to say that he won’t leave, but he will, no matter what he says. Five may think he’s special (and of course, he is, he’s precious to Vanya in a way that she can’t say for anyone else in her life), but he’s only human. And people _always_ leave in the end, whether they intend to or not.

 _I wish I could believe you, Five_.

“ _Promise_ you’ll come back,” Vanya says instead, pushing it all down and extending her pinky while looking at him expectantly. Five huffs, rolling his eyes as he links their fingers without hesitation. He curls his fingers into his palm so that their thumbs press together, the touch akin to the wax seal of a decree, an oath.

“I promise, Vanya.”


	3. (4) Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are six members of the Umbrella Academy. Spaceboy, The Kraken, The Séance, The Boy, The Horror. And then there’s Allison: The Prophet. An AU where instead of rumoring people, Allison can see into the future. (Pre-Season 1, Season 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't have plans on doing this prompt but then i thought about [ this post](https://shizuoi.tumblr.com/post/621367258075234304/deaddoggod-modern-prophets-kids-with-messy-hair) and was like hm, what if

Allison has always been a good liar. Not by birth, but by necessity.

You see, when people find out that you can see the future, they want to know everything. They have questions, so _many_ questions. And the funny thing about people is that when they ask questions, most of the time they don’t want the truth. They want an answer they’d like to hear, something that makes them feel good.

You can see how this is a problem.

So, Allison learns to survive by lying, by saying, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what the future holds for you. I can only see some things.”

It’s a terribly large lie and she feels bad every single time she says it. Because Allison always knows what the future holds for every person she sets her eyes on. She can see the future of _everything_.

It was horrible in the beginning, when she had no training and no direction. Everywhere she turned, she would just suddenly _know_ things. Terrible things that no child (and sometimes, no adult) should ever have to see.

She’s thankful for Dad, in that regard. He wasn’t kind, but he gave her the tools she needed to handle it all. And thanks to him, she can choose when she wants to see what the future holds, for the most part. It’s not easy, but she makes it work. She hones the skill until it’s as easy as breathing.

At least, that’s what she tells herself. But that’s also a lie. It’ll never be as easy as breathing because just knowing that she has the knowledge to save the world a thousand times over, that she could change anybody’s life in a second, weighs her down more than any amount of oxygen and carbon dioxide ever could.

And the funny thing about lies is that they tend to grow with time. One leads to another and another until the whole story is snowballing and the supports give. And then everything crumbles to the ground.

Allison sometimes wonders whether the countless lies she’s told (and will inevitably continue to tell) will eventually cause her to crumble. She wonders if it’ll be a glorious explosion when it all ends. Or will it just be a breathless exhale of relief?

But thoughts like that don’t really matter. Not when Dad’s dead and the family is back together after over a decade apart and somehow _Five_ is back, looking exactly the same as the day he left 17 years ago.

“There’s an apocalypse coming. In 8 days, the world will be destroyed,” Five says through a mouth full of peanut butter and marshmallows. Everyone’s head swivels on cue to look at Allison, and for all that’s changed between them, it seems that they all still fall back on the same patterns established in their youth.

Allison closes her eyes with a sigh, carefully letting down her mental walls before doing a little digging. Biggers events are easier to ignore if they get buried, and when Allison had felt something big begin to simmer years and years ago, she’d pushed it _deep_ down.

She’d felt bad when she first started doing it, sacrificing the fate of other’s lives for her peace of mind. But Allison’s grown, and she knows now that she deserves to live her life. She already did her time, gave up her entire childhood to try and save the world. It’s only fair that the world let her save herself now.

 _There_.

Allison grasps the thread of knowledge, tugging it until it spools into her hand, coalescing in a neat little ball. She looks at it, brow furrowing. Such a large disaster in a small package.

“He’s right.” She opens her eyes, glancing at her siblings. “The moon will explode and its pieces will fall to Earth, destroying life as we know it.”

“Great. It’s showtime, Spaceboy,” Diego says with a hard nudge to Luther’s shoulder. Luther hisses under his breath, batting Diego’s elbow away.

“Not so fast.” Five fixes Allison with a sharp look. “How does the moon explode?”

Allison sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. The moment she tells them, they’ll try to stop it. And when people begin to deliberately meddle with the future, it’s a headache and a half for Allison to keep up with the changes. She’s tired. So, _so_ tired.

So what if the world ends? Maybe she’ll finally get some peace and quiet. Maybe it takes the world ending for the visions to stop keeping her up at night, to stop her from bolting awake in the middle of sleeping with lies ready-made on her tongue.

But no. She has to do this. For Claire, for her family. It’s the right thing to do.

“Buckle up,” Allison says with a sigh, planting her hand against the table. “This isn’t going to be fun.”


	4. (6) Farm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya and Sissy discuss horses. An AU where Sissy and Harlan come back to 2019 with Vanya. (Post-Season 2)

“I’ve always loved horses,” Sissy murmurs, eyes shining as a filly shyly sniffs her palm. A stallion behind her noses insistently at her pocket, fishing for the carrots he can smell hidden under the fabric.

“Well, it seems they love you right back,” Vanya says, placing her palm against the stallion’s forelock and gently pushing him away. He nickers resentfully, butting up against Vanya’s hand.

“Don’t they? I want to bring them all home with me. Have a _real_ farm.”

Vanya grins, shooting Sissy a wry look. “Why don’t you?”

“Oh, don’t you start that now,” Sissy laughs, shaking her head. “First the chickens, then the goats. And now, horses? I’m not exactly rich, Vanya.”

“Okay, in my defense, the goats were a necessary addition.” Vanya shoves her hands in her pockets, giving Sissy a lopsided smile. “They’re just as useful as the chickens. You won’t have to pay to have the plants trimmed!”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Sissy says, hiding her laughter behind her hand.

“But about the horses,” Vanya hums, snagging a carrot from Sissy’s coat pocket and holding it out to the stallion in the flat of her palm. He moves greedily, lips brushing against her skin as he inhales the carrot in a few large bites. “They could be useful. You could teach the kids around the farm to ride. Start a Pony Club.”

“So close to town?” Sissy snorts. “City folk don’t care for all…this.” She waves her hand at the barn around them, the floors covered in hay and dirt and dusty particles floating through the air. Vanya sneezes on cue, rattling herself enough that she stumbles into Sissy.

“Horses are hard work, and if they were to learn how to ride, they’d need to learn how to care for them. All this dirt and grime and hard labor,” Sissy continues as she wraps a steadying arm around Vanya’s shoulders. “Not their speed, I reckon.”

Vanya sniffles before letting out a half-hearted laugh.

“You’d be surprised. I know a city girl who would have killed to learn how to ride as a kid.”

Sissy hums, pulling Vanya close enough to rest her hand casually against Vanya’s waist.

“You think this girl would still be interested in riding? Even if she’s all grown up?” Sissy says carefully, tone light enough that Vanya relaxes in her grip.

“Probably. Depends on who the teacher is.”

“Oh? What’s she looking for in a teacher, if you know?”

Vanya looks Sissy up and down with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“I think she’d like a nice person, kind and gentle,” Vanya says, the corner of her lip curling into a secretive smile. “Someone who could show her how it’s done, teach her and be patient when she’s bad at it.”

“Everyone’s bad in the beginning.”

Vanya shakes her head. “Don’t expect too much from this girl. She’ll be bad the whole time.”

“I highly doubt that,” Sissy huffs, amused. “Anything else she’d like?”

“Someone who looks elegant, sitting atop a horse and riding it like she was born to. That definitely wouldn’t hurt.” Vanya tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. She taps her chin as she gives Sissy a considering look. “You look like just the right fit, now that I think of it.”

Sissy lets out a surprised laugh, cheeks flushing as she pulls Vanya close. Vanya giggles, pressing a hasty kiss to Sissy’s cheek that Sissy returns easily, lips slanting gently over Vanya’s before she pulls away.

“Maybe if you can get this girl to ask me, I’ll think it over,” she says, expression playful. “Do some planning, some budgeting. We’d need to make sure the horses won’t run the farm into the ground, after all.”

Vanya starts, eyes wide as her fingers gently cup Sissy’s face.

“Would you really?

“Oh darling,” Sissy murmurs, leaning closer. “All you had to do was ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, projecting onto this fic: can you tell i was a horse girl? does it show? can you tell i am currently thinking about my grandmother's horses and missing them very much?? because i do :((


	5. (7) Team Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luther and Diego fight side-by-side. An AU where the Umbrella Academy returns to the correct timeline and there’s no Sparrow Academy. (Post-Season 2)

Luther steps forward cautiously, fingers clenching into fists as he hears the sound of scuffling in the alleyway.

Tonight was supposed to be a quiet evening in. Luther had plans. Plans that included a relaxing bath, pizza, and maybe some crappy reality TV for company.

But no, Klaus _had_ to ask him where Diego was, and then Allison _had_ to insist that Luther hunt him down to invite him to dinner. Hence why Luther is now trudging through the dark streets, tracing Diego’s usual hunting grounds, and possibly about to run into a street fight that he wants nothing to do with. Brilliant.

A knife suddenly whizzes by Luther’s head, just missing his ear before embedding itself neatly in the stone wall behind him. Luther stumbles back, eyes narrowing as he catches the familiar shape of the knife’s handle in his peripheral vision.

“ _Seriously_?” Luther hisses, turning to see a familiar grin being flashed at him by a man with his arm curled tightly around a masked figure’s neck.

“Glad you could join me,” Diego calls over the sound of scuffling. He extends his arm, and Luther catches a flash of silver illuminated by the moonlight. Diego smirks at Luther as the man behind him crumbles to the ground.

Luther rolls his eyes. “Showoff,” he mutters, yanking the knife out of the wall. He charges in, grabbing another man’s arm and twisting it harshly as he tosses the knife at Diego.

Diego catches it between two fingers with ease, flicking it forward. The knife buries itself in the man’s throat and Luther promptly drops him, attention shifting to the men who have now noticed his presence and labeled him as a threat.

“I thought you promised you wouldn’t do these,” Luther grunts as he dodges a punch, “late night crime runs?”

Diego snorts. “Never said that. I said I’d do _less_ of them.” He huffs as an assailant whips out a pistol.

Diego grabs the gun, yanking the man’s arm down before kicking his knee up. A loud _crack_ and subsequent scream echoes through the alleyway. Diego grabs the gun from the man’s slack fingers with a cackle, emptying the rounds into two more attackers.

“Also, these fools came after me.”

“Commission?” Luther says breathlessly, sweeping two more men aside with his arm. They fly into the wall, heads cracking against the hard stone before they slump down.

“Fight now, talk later, bro.”

“Diego, there aren’t any left to fight,” Luther says, gesturing to the empty alley around them.

“Huh?” Diego looks around, impressed. “Huh. Not bad.” He shoots Luther a toothy grin. “Team Zero, yeah?”

Luther rolls his eyes, offering his closed fist to Diego with an amused, but still reluctant sigh. Diego nods approvingly, bumping their fists together.

“So, are they Commission?”

“If they are, I don’t recognize them.” Diego squats down, peering at an attacker’s mask as he yanks his knife out of the man’s chest. “They don’t look like temporal assassins. Or those assholes with the gas masks that attacked us at the theater. If they’re Commission, then it’s something we don’t know about.”

Luther hums, considering. “Should we tell Five?”

“Yeah. But later.” Diego wipes his knives on an assailant’s sweater before sheathing them.

“We—"

“ _Because_ ,” Diego interrupts, giving Luther a pointed look as he stands and stretches, “there’s a taco truck nearby that I haven’t shown you yet and their _al pastor_ is to _die_ for.”

Luther casts a guilty look at the bodies surrounding them.

“We should really tell Five now. What if they try to attack the manor again?”

“They won’t, they were only following me from the boiler room. It’s fine. So, tacos?”

“Tacos to go and then we go back to the manor.”

“Tacos to go, but we eat them on the way back,” Diego corrects, brow cocked. Luther throws his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“Fine! Fine, tacos. Let’s go.”

“ _Hell_ yes,” Diego hisses with excitement as he fist-pumps the air. “You won’t regret it.

Luther shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smile. “We’ll see about that.”


	6. (8) Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Vanya reunite. An AU where the Ben is resurrected following his time in Vanya’s mind. (Season 2)

“Can you hug me as I go? It’s been a long time since—”

Vanya nearly barrels into Ben, arms wrapping tight around his waist. Ben lets out a small gasp of surprise at her enthusiasm before his arms rest carefully around her shoulders, chin tucked against her head.

Vanya can feel him disappearing beneath his fingers, the solid feeling of his body against hers fading with every breath he takes. It feels like she’s holding pieces of tissue paper; then thin, delicate flower petals; then soft dust motes floating up into the air like dandelion florets in a glowing swirl of blue.

And then he’s gone, Vanya’s arms wrapped around empty air. She lets her hands fall. She feels lighter and yet more full. Complete, somehow, like Ben managed to slot a piece of himself in her heart to remind her of her life, who she is, and how utterly and truly loved she is, not just by him, but by her entire family.

Vanya smiles, closing her eyes. Time to get back to the real world, she supposes.

Everything comes back to her in waves; the incessant tick of the clock, the slight buzz of whatever lights managed to brave the storm of her abilities, the smell of decaying flesh, the wet slide of her feet in the metal pan. The tight leather of her restraints is the worse of it all, and Vanya scrunches her face up in discomfort, power buzzing under her fingernails as she prepares to blast them off.

“I got it,” a familiar voice says, and Vanya can feel something tugging at her bonds. Her eyes flutter open and land on Ben. _Ben_.

“Ben?” She stutters out, wishing her hands were free so that she could rub her eyes. Ben looks up, blinking in confusion. His eyes widen.

“ _Vanya_?”

“Oh my god,” Vanya says faintly, the hum of energy barely registering in her ears and suddenly she’s breaking free of her bonds despite how Ben’s hands have stalled over the tight leather. She rockets forward, reaching desperately for him, the blue glow of power still tinting the skin of her hands as she cups his face with an aching tenderness.

“You’re here. You’re actually here,” she says with a disbelieving laugh, eyes darting over his face. “This can’t be possible. Am I still dreaming?”

“I don’t—” Ben cuts himself off, pressing his fingers to his neck. His mouth widens in an awestruck grin. “I have a pulse. God, Vanya, I’m actually _alive_!”

“How?”

Ben shrugs, inhaling shakily. “I don’t know, I have no idea, but this…this is real.” He reaches forward, brushing a thumb reverently under her eye where tears are beginning to fall. “Your face, it’s wet. I can feel it. I can feel your tears and it feels _real_.”

Vanya gives him a watery smile before burying her face in his neck, taking a shuddering breath.

“I know I just saw you,” she says, voice muffled against his jacket, “but it’s _so_ good to see you, Ben. To feel you, for real.”

“It’s good to see you too. I can’t believe…” he trails off, petting her head soothingly. “I can’t believe I get a second chance to do this on my own. Not through Klaus.”

Vanya pulls away, looking up. “ _Through_ Klaus?”

“Oh yeah, new thing.” Ben shoots her a smirk as she wipes her tears away hurriedly. “I can possess him now. Or, well, I could. I got to roll around in the dirt and eat an orange in his body. The orange kinda sucked though,” he says with a wince. Vanya lets out a shaky giggle.

“Well, now you can eat all the shitty oranges you want in your own body.”

“Yeah,” Ben says with a laugh. “Maybe I will. Just because I can.”


	7. (10) Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison and Klaus have a heart-to-heart. (Post-Season 2)

Klaus hums as he examines the Sparrow Academy family portraits lining the walls. Really, it’s so unfair they got maroon uniforms and his family got stuck with the navy. Absolutely devastating blow to his fashion sense.

He makes his way back downstairs, appreciative that the manor is relatively the same in this timeline. Klaus knows he would be that much closer to breaking sobriety again if he had to contend with a mysterious house layout on top of everything that’s gut-punched him and his siblings in the last 24 hours.

The light sound of movement in the main room leads Klaus to peek in, eyes widening as he sees Allison sprawled out on the couch, glass in hand.

“Allison, my dearest sister, are you _drinking_?”

“Nope.” She pops the “p” at the end, shaking the glass at Klaus without turning to look at him. “Ginger ale. Straight, no chaser.”

“Ahh, a fine choice. I’ll have one too, if the bar is still open.”

Allison snorts, flicking her finger behind her where the drinks still sit.

“Dunno if there’s any left, but there’s other stuff.”

Klaus shrugs. “I’ll bite.”

He plops himself next to Allison after a few minutes with a quiet “ _oof”_ , ice clinking lightly against the side of the glass. Allison glances at what seems to be his glass of plain ice water before diverting her gaze back up at the ceiling.

“So, what sorrows are you attempting to drown?” Klaus says, smacking his lips after a sip. Allison shrugs.

“Not sure yet. I’m hoping if I mope long enough, I’ll figure it out.”

“I can try and help that along, if you want,” Klaus says with a tilt of his head. At Allison’s tentative nod, he throws his hand into the air, fingers curling into a fist.

“One: we’ve just left out homes of the last couple of years. Homes that we were prepared to stay permanently in.” He extends his thumb and Allison lets out sigh.

“Two: We’ve just discovered that Dad apparently didn’t like us enough to adopt us in this timeline,” he says, raising his pointer finger.

“Not really a loss, if you think about it,” Allison mutters into her drink. Klaus shrugs before extending his middle finger.

“Three: We don’t technically exist here. We’re vagabonds, nomads in our own home. Which is no longer our home.” His hand falls as he turns to look at Allison. “I think that covers the gist of it?”

“You’re forgetting the lives we left back in 2019,” Allison says softly, avoiding Klaus’s gaze as she watches condensation collect down the side of her glass.

“Ah yes. Drifters two times over, that we are.” Klaus takes another sip before setting his glass down on the coffee table. He leans back against the arm of the couch, crossing his legs and tapping Allison’s calf with his toe. “Wanna talk about that a little more?”

“What’s there to talk about? Everything we knew in 2019 is gone. Not just in the past but gone. Destroyed,” Allison says lowly, taking a hurried gulp and wincing as the carbonation burns down her throat.

“And we can’t do _anything_ about it,” Klaus agrees with a groan, the back of his head knocking against the couch. “It’s hard to miss what technically doesn’t exist, isn’t it?”

“That’s…that’s not true,” Allison says shakily. She puts her glass down on the coffee table, elbows resting on her knees as she leans forward.

“How so,” Klaus asks, straightening enough to lay a careful hand on her back. Allison looks up, desperately blinking away her tears.

“Claire. I’ve never missed something more in my life, time shit be _damned_.”

“Oh, Allison,” Klaus murmurs, arms circling around Allison’s shoulders as she lets out a choked sob. She burrows into his arms, tucking herself against his chest as her shoulder shake with silent sobs. Klaus rubs his hand up and down her back, chin resting atop her head.

“You’re so strong all the time, Allison. It’s okay to let go,” he says gently. “You deserve a good cry.”

“I failed her,” Allison whimpers into his shirt, gasping desperately.

“You did the best you could.”

“I thought I could come back, make it up to her.” Allison’s fingers tighten around the material of Klaus’s shirt. “Give her what she deserves. But I can’t, I _can’t_.”

Klaus hums quietly, pressing his lips into her hairline. He closes his eyes as a single tear falls, rolling slowly down his cheek.

“I know how you feel, Allison. I know exactly how that feels.”


	8. (11) Outfits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diego and Five go shopping. An AU where the Umbrella Academy returns to the correct timeline and there’s no Sparrow Academy. (Post-Season 2)

“Diego.”

Diego jerks back in surprise, catching himself before falling out of his chair and instinctively letting a knife fly in the direction of the voice. He looks up to see Five examining the knife imbedded in the wall with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“ _Christ_ , you scared me,” Diego hisses, getting up to snatch the knife from the stone before giving Five a pointed glare.

“I need you to come clothes shopping with me,” Five replies unprompted. Diego’s face screws up in confusion.

“Wh—what?”

“I’m not repeating myself,” Five says, nose wrinkling.

“ _Okay_ ,” Diego says, drawing the vowel out as he sits back down, absently flipping the knife between his fingers. “Why are you asking me? I’m not exactly shopping buddy material here.”

“Exactly.” Five waves his hand carelessly at Diego. “Your wardrobe is minimal, yet efficient. I trust you, out of everyone, to make shopping as painless as possible for me.”

Diego tilts his head, looking Five up and down.

“Klaus make one too many schoolboy jokes?”

“The student angle is getting a little old.” Five slumps a little against the wall, the corner of his lip ticking down in a frown. “I’d like to stop being handed a kids menu when we go out to eat.”

Diego snickers. “Well, I don’t have plans,” he says with a shrug. “Ready to go when you are.”

Five hums as he steps forward. Diego barely has enough time to register the mischievous glint in Five’s eyes before he feels Five’s hand at his wrist and the world around them twisting and narrowing into a pinpoint of blue light, like being compressed into a singular atom and shooting through time and space.

And then suddenly, everything expands into its rightful size, nothing remaining from their frankly invasive travel method save for the prickling feeling of static electricity dancing across Diego’s skin. Diego folds himself in half, hands braced against his knees as he wheezes.

“Shit, I still don’t know how you do that.”

“You get used to it,” Five says amiably, shooting Diego a smug grin as the dimple in his cheek deepens. Diego groans, straightening and pressing a hand to his forehead.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Five pulls open the door to the department store, strolling in without waiting. Diego scrambles in behind him, managing to catch the door before it hits him in the face.

“So,” Diego says, looking around. “Did you want me to pick for you, or…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m perfectly capable of picking my own clothes,” Five says coolly, already engrossed in the dress shirts.

“Did you bring me along just so I would pay for you,” Diego says sharply, eyes narrowing. Five holds up a wallet, pinched between his pointer and middle finger.

“Again, don’t be ridiculous.” He thumbs through the shirts, wrinkling his nose. “I need you here to help me figure out how to dress appropriately. Apparently, I have no idea how fashion works, accordingly to Klaus.”

Diego snorts. “Yeah, well, that’s Klaus. My tip, for starters, would be to start in a section that actually carries your size,” he says, dipping his head towards the kid’s section. Five’s frown deepens.

“I take it back, I don’t want your help in this at all.”

“Awh, don’t be like that.” Diego catches Five’s shoulder, prompting him to turn around. “Look, find stuff that you like in the men’s section and show me, and then we can look together in the kid’s section. That okay?”

“Fine,” Five grumbles, turning back to the men’s formalwear.

20 minutes later, Diego lets out a deep sigh. “It’s official,” he says, thumbing through the clothes Five curated. “Your fashion preferences practically scream “Poindexter”.”

“I believe it’s called prep, no?” Five grins widely at Diego, a bit of a manic glint in his eye.

“Yeah, well, it could be worse. You could be into those tacky graphic t-shirts with puns on them.”

“You have my express permission to stab me if I ever voluntarily let one of those shirts touch my skin,” Five groans, turning to look at the children’s clothing section with ill-disguised malice. “Shall we?”

Diego cracks his knuckles. “Let’s.”

\---

“Do mine eyes deceive me?” Klaus pipes up from the doorway with a dramatic gasp.

“Most likely, yes,” Five drawls, not even deigning to look up from where he’s settled on the couch, legs tossed over Diego’s thighs as he reads.

“You aren’t in Daddy dearest’s uniform,” Klaus continues as though Five hadn’t spoken, flouncing over to drape himself over the back of the couch. He pinches the fabric of Five’s almond-colored sweater between his fingers, humming in approval

“I needed a change.”

“Five! Ooh, nice outfit,” Allison calls out, wandering in. “Who dressed you?”

“I did,” Five huffs out, snapping his book shut and looking up. Allison raises a brow.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Diego helped.”

“Diego,” Allison says, shooting him an impressed look. “ _Nice_.”

“We make a good team, don’t we brother?” Diego says, pleased as he holds up his hand. Five glances up, tilting his head before lightly slapping his palm against Diego’s.

“I suppose we do,” he says, lips ticking up in a small smile as he turns back to his book.


	9. (15) Axe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five has a panic attack. Luther rambles about fences. An AU where the Umbrella Academy returns to the correct timeline and there’s no Sparrow Academy. (Post-Season 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for symptoms of ptsd, five having a panic attack and some graphic imagery of blood. please proceed with caution, thank you!

“Well, doesn’t this make a pretty picture.”

Luther looks up from his task of chopping wood, leaning forward on the handle of his axe as he wipes his brow.

“And what brings you here to the farm, Five?”

Five shrugs. “Book trading with Vanya. She had recommendations and I was free. You?”

“Sissy was thinking of putting up a fence and wanted some help splitting some of this lumber into posts,” Luther says with a nod to the wood. “I also promised Harlan I’d paint with him afterwards.”

“I see,” Five says easily as he tucks his hands in his pockets. Luther hums, turning back to his task.

They’ve settled into an easy comradery since the family returned from 1960. What with the lack of a looming apocalypse or abusive father to adhere to, time has been spent actually trying to get to know each other as a family and it’s…nice. It’s been really nice.

Five’s musings stutter to a halt at the dull sound of wood splitting. His eyes dart to follow the motion of the axe, steadily swinging down with the mighty force of Luther’s strength to split an arm cleanly from a body dressed in blue. No. That’s—

Five blinks, shaking his head slightly. It’s wood. Luther is chopping _wood_ , for a fence. For Sissy. He knows that, and yet his fingers curl into fists in his pockets as he watches blood drip tantalizingly slow down the side of the stump that Luther’s using as a chopping block. It winks at him, the morning sun making the crimson rivulets glimmer enticingly. Five swallows.

He isn’t in the habit of regretting his time as an assassin. It was a job born out of necessity, and necessity implies no enjoyment. It’s a guilt-free way of looking at things. I did it because I had to; I did it for my family; I had no choice. It implies an easy distance when all is said and done. You made me a killer; this isn’t who I am; I am choosing to renounce this career and I refuse to let it define who I was, who I am.

He left that life behind; Five knows that. It’s part of his past now, a section of his life that he holds no joy in remembering. And yet he still stares, the rush of adrenaline, of _excitement_ in his veins at the sight of blood, of violence a blatant contradiction to his thoughts.

 _You miss it, don’t you?_ A voice in his head says. It sounds uncomfortably like the Handler.

 _The rush of the hunt. The satisfaction of the kill. That’s not the job, sweetheart. That’s all_ you _._

He feels sick, throat closing and vision narrowing onto the axe. That’s Five, that’s _him_ , a killer and nothing more.

“Five—”

Five jumps at Luther’s touch, instinctively warping away. He lands unsteadily a few feet behind Luther, stumbling to ground. The dirt and pebbles scrap at his palms, but he can’t feel them. All he can feel is the grip of the axe in his hands, the sensation of bringing the weapon down, cracking heads open and severing arms.

A fire axe, a wicked-sharp hunting knife, a sniper rifle, a hefty cricket bat. It’s all the same, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter how you get there, so long as your target is bleeding and life is fading from their eyes as you stand over them, reveling in your hard-won victory. A life taken is a kill, fuck the method, fuck the _reasoning_.

Five tries to take a breath but his lungs stutter, refusing to cooperate. He claps his hand over his mouth, eyes widening. There’s blood dripping down his fingers, sliding against the skin of his face as his grip tightens over his mouth.

It’s not actually there, the blood isn’t physically real but it’s still _real_ , it’s blood that he’s spilled and he’s going to have to live with that forever, a span of time that isn’t even long enough to atone for his numerous sins—

“Five.”

Five manages to turn his head, barely registering Luther’s face through the haze and panic and nausea overtaking his body. His vision slides to the space behind Luther where the axe lies, abandoned on the ground.

It’s calling him, isn’t it? That’s what weapons do, don’t they? They call to killers, enticing them to fulfill their roles.

Luther sees where Five’s gaze lands and moves, blocking the axe from view.

“Hey, look at me, Five. There’s nothing out there, right? Here,” he says quickly, setting his hands carefully on Five’s shoulders, “I was thinking about how the fence should be structured and I wanted your thoughts.”

Luther’s voice feels so far away as he rambles, it’s almost like everything is underwater. Five can feel himself trembling despite the hot summer sun, and he bats the hazy feeling away, trying to focus. Luther is trying to tell him something, and while it may be unimportant, it’s _Luther_. That’s his brother and he’ll be damned if he loses any more time with his family than he already has.

Five feels his breathing slow, pulse steadying enough that the weight on his sense seems to lighten. It’s enough that Five can finally latch onto Luther’s words enough to understand. He tilts his head. Braced line assembly?

“That won’t be necessary,” Five says hoarsely, looking up at Luther and finally _seeing_ him. “The land here is flat enough that you shouldn’t need to use a braced line assembly that frequently, if at all.”

Luther relaxes. “I suppose it’d depend on the length of the fence.”

“And how curved you need it to be,” Five says with a slow nod.

“Do you want to go inside and talk about it some more?” Luther says carefully, ducking his head to catch Five’s eye. “Sissy might have some good insight to share too.”

“Alright.”

“You wanna talk about _that_ later?” Luther says as they stroll back to the house, his gaze flicking briefly over to the axe on the ground. Five grimaces.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. He can’t tell them, they can’t know what he’s done.

He glances back at the axe.

But they already know, don’t they? How many times has his family seen him stumble in, collar stained crimson and a bloody weapon gripped tight in his fist? And every time, they accept it. They hand him clean clothes, shove him towards a shower, offer food, drink, shelter, no questions asked.

Diego gently ruffling his hair, Vanya squeezing his hand, Allison offering him a plate of whatever food she’s made, Klaus sprawling next to Five on the couch with a blatant disregard for personal space that Five knows is his effort to reassure with touch. And now Luther, anchoring him in reality as his mind tries to spiral into darkness. 

They’re his support. They’re his family. They may already know, having pieced things together. But they deserve to hear it from Five, and he deserves to tell them.

They deserve to be a family that knows love, no matter how hard it might be.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Five drawls as calmly as he can. “But I will. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i did actually research into fence structures for this...it was actually pretty interesting?


	10. (16) Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A no powers Buzzfeed Unsolved AU where Five is Shane, Diego is Ryan, Elliot their cameraman, and Ben is the ghost haunting the old mansion that’s they’re investigating.

“Hey guys, Diego here, with Five, and this week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we’re exploring the mysterious Umbrella Academy manor in New York, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?”

Five glances at the camera, shaking his head with a deadpan expression.

“Someday, bro,” Diego says with a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Someday, you’ll understand. Anyways, we’re currently at the manor itself, known for its frequent ghost sightings and reports of supernatural activity. And we’ll be, once again, staying the night on sight.”

“You look scared,” Five remarks mildly, raising a brow as Diego shoots him a glare.

“Shut up, Five, I’m keeping it cool. I am cool.”

“Sure. You’re cool.” Five waves his hand, leaning back in his chair. “Tell me about this place.”

“Pretty weird story, honestly. Reginald Hargreeves, the eccentric billionaire, adopted 7 children who all happened to be born on October 1, 1989. He raised them here, and everything seemed to be normal. Or, as normal as things can be when a guy adopts 7 kids out of the blue. Until one day, in 2006, they all just…vanished.”

“Just like that? Strange.”

“Right? We don’t have the exact date, since authorities didn’t realize the entire household had vanished until multiple people started expressing concerns that they hadn’t seen any of the kids or heard any noises from the manor. The police busted in and the place was empty,” Diego says, gesturing loosely at their surroundings of the main entrance hall.

“Everything looked normal, like a house that had been lived in with beds unmade and dishes in the sink. But everything was covered in a thin layer of dust and there was nobody to be found. They never recovered any bodies either.”

“So, given that we’re here, I’m assuming that the prevailing theory is that everyone died?” Five says to the camera before glancing at Diego. Diego shrugs before nodding.

“Supposedly. I mean, what else could have happened?”

“A lot of things,” Five huffs, shaking his head. “But we’re not here to talk conspiracy theories. We’re here to prove that ghosts aren’t real.”

“Dude no, that’s not why we’re here,” Diego hisses.

“That’s why _I’m_ here, at least,” Five says with a wide grin. “So, shall we?”

“I guess,” Diego says, grimacing before guiding Five and Elliot through the manor as he consults his phone for notes.

“Not too much activity on the first floor,” Diego declares to the camera as they make their way up the stairs. “Though some people say they see a women in a 60s housewife get-up puttering around in the main dining room and downstairs in the basement kitchen area.”

“Hm. Does she bother people?” Five asks, glancing down at the temperature readings before peering into the dark.

“Not particularly. Some people have said that she’s looked up and asked them if they’re alright before offering to bake them cookies—”

Five’s snort cuts through the tense atmosphere. Diego relaxes slightly as he smiles.

“Yeah, same. Second floor seems to be the most active. People say that’s where the children slept.”

“Well,” Five says dryly, peering into one of the rooms, “judging by all the children’s paraphernalia here, they would be correct.” He looks at Diego. “Any preference on whose room we invade?”

“A lot of people have said this one kid, Ben I think his name was? He’s an active one—”

The sound of movement pierces through the dead air. Diego swings his flashlight forward with a gasp, the beam hovering steadily on a poster, facedown in the middle of the hallway floor.

“That was on the wall,” Diego says shakily. Five directs his flashlight beam up, focusing the light steadily on the discolored wood marking where the poster once sat.

“An astute observation.” Five steps forward, kneeling down to pick up the paper amid Diego’s hissed warnings. “Huh.” He turns the poster toward Diego and the camera. “A self-defense poster. These kids must have had a fun childhood.”

“Well, we can ask Ben if you want. His room is right here.” Diego flicks his flashlight towards the room behind Five, the dark interior of the room seeming to swallow the light.

“He clearly wants us to get a move on,” Five says, and they hurriedly set up, angling the camera and situating themselves around the flashlight placed carefully on Ben’s bed.

“Ben, if you’re here, please turn this flashlight on for us.”

Nothing happens.

“Maybe he’s shy,” Five says with a smirk, squatting next to the flashlight. “If you want to speak to us, turn this flashlight on.”

Again, nothing. Diego lets out a relieved sigh.

“If you hate us and you want us to die, turn this flashlight on,” Five continues blithely.

Diego glares. “Dude, don’t—"

The flashlight flickers to life, shining bright in the dark room. Five lets out a delighted laugh as Diego screams, pressing himself against the bedroom wall.

“What the _fuck_?!”

“Now that _is_ fun,” Five declares, throwing a Diego a pleased grin.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—"

“Still not convinced you really hate us, though,” Five says as he turns back to the flashlight. “If you _really_ hate us, turn it off, if you’d be so kind.”

“Five…” Diego whimpers as the flashlight begins to flicker unsteadily.

“All the way off, please. ” Five watching mildly as the flashlight quickly snuffs itself out. “Lovely, thank you.”

“I want to leave,” Diego says faintly, eyes still glued to the now-dead flashlight. Five snickers quietly, grabbing the flashlight and tossing it between his hands.

“Don’t forget we still have to spend the night here, remember?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Diego hisses, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Should we try talking to him?” Five tilts his head, almost curious. “Since it seems someone is actually here to talk to.”

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Diego glares as he fumbles for the spirit box, ignoring Five’s pleased expression.

“I haven’t had this much fun in decades, honestly.”

“You’re barely thirty, don’t talk like an old man,” Diego mutters as he fiddles with the dials. They both wince as he turns the machine on, ear-piercing static cutting through the silence before it evens out, jumping through radio frequencies at a dizzying pace.

“Hello, my name’s Diego and this is my friend Five,” Diego declares to the room, eyeing the spirit box.

_Don’t…sks…ksss…care._

Diego turns to look at Five, eyes comically wide.

“That’s the clearest response we’ve ever gotten,” he says, in awe. Five wrinkles his nose.

“Also the rudest, by far.”

“Dude shut up.” Diego flaps his hand at Five.

_Shut…up_

Diego leans forward, trembling slightly as he speaks. “Are you Ben?”

_Obviously…you’re in my…skss…room._

“Touchy,” Five mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Tell us how you died?”

_Wow…you’re creative…skkss….like I’ve never been…asked that…before._

“Are you sure this is real?” Five asks, squinting up at Diego. “Awfully sassy ghost for our first successful contact.”

_For Christ’s…sake…_

The temperature around them suddenly drops, Diego and Five both shivering as they glance at each other. It gets colder and colder, the spirit box beginning to short out as frost begins to form around the dials. The sound of flipping radio frequencies suddenly stops, power dying in an instant.

“What the fuck,” Five hisses as Diego fiddles helplessly with the dials. He glances up at Five, eyes widening as he lets out a scream. There’s a _man_ sitting next to them, glowing a translucent blue.

Diego can see _through_ him.

“Five, holy f—fuck, ho—holy _shit_ ,” Diego stutters out, finger raising to point at the man. Five turns, balking at the sight of the man, the _ghost_ sitting cross-legged next to him.

“Huh,” Five says shakily, jaw working as he regards the man carefully. “Are you…Ben?”

“Yeah? Christ,” the ghost mutters, shaking his head. He looks up suddenly, a strange glint in his eye as he looks Five up and down. The air turns, the chill twisting into a sour sort of energy and Diego can feel it, something bad is gonna happen.

“Five, man, maybe you should—”

Five stiffens, gasping as Ben reaches out. Ben’s fingers push through Five’s chest and Five shudders violently, eyes widening in surprise and fear.

“ _Oh_ ,” Ben murmurs, mouth curling in a grin. “That’s a thought.” And without further warning, Ben _dives_ , pushing himself through Five’s body, no, _into_ Five’s body, vanishing without a trace.

Five straightens suddenly, eyes bugging out of his skull as his hands curl into fists. He’s trembling, shaking so badly Diego reaches out to grab his shoulder. His skin is so cold, cold enough that it bites at Diego’s skin through Five’s clothing.

“Five, shit, man, are you okay? What’s happening?” Diego shakes Five a little harder, but to no avail. Five’s gaze rips from Diego’s face, panic and fear sliding smoothly away as his face slackens and he turns to look straight ahead. Diego waves his hand in front of Five’s face. He doesn’t even blink.

“Five?” Diego turns to look up at Elliot. “You’re getting this, right?”

At Elliot’s frantic nod, Diego turns back to look at Five. He stiffens. Something isn’t right.

It’s Five’s body he has clutched between his hands, Five’s arms that he’s gripping tightly. And yet, it isn’t. Diego can’t really explain it, but there’s something about the way Five’s holding himself that feels _wrong_. Unnatural, like he’s suddenly forgotten how to bodies are supposed to work.

Five’s head turns slowly, interrupting Diego’s train of thought. The set of his face, the curve of his lip, the tilt of his head, it’s all wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

“F—Five?”

“Not quite. Hm,” Five says, looking down as he flexes his fingers experimentally. “Never tried this before. But it seems to be working okay.” His voice sounds odd, like his normal dry tone layered over an unfamiliar voice, a touch lower in pitch.

“Wh—what?”

“I’m Ben.” Five (no, Ben) gives Diego a wry smile, a touch too wide to be comforting. “You’re Diego, right?”

“Yes—”

“Lovely.” Ben tilts his head, scrutinizing Diego with a keen eye. It’s a look that Five gives Diego fairly often, but now it only makes a fearful shiver run down Diego’s spine. “I’m only doing this because you don’t make me want to tear my eyes out like other “ghost hunters” do. _But_ ,” Ben snaps with a glare, “don’t take that as a compliment. You and your friend are on thin fucking ice here. I don’t like you by any means.”

“Fair, Five’s an asshole.”

“You’re no angel yourself,” Ben says, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Diego holds his hands up.

“Never said I was.”

“Honest. Good, I like that. God, it’s weird being in a body again.” Ben looks down, patting his (Five’s) knees hesitantly. “Not used to being…solid. Constantly perceived.”

“Was there, a specific reason you, uh…” Diego gestures helplessly at him, “possessed my friend?”

“Yeah.” Ben leans forward, hands braced against his thighs. “I’m sick of the story of me and my siblings being brushed off as a supernatural mystery. There’s nothing supernatural about it. The only mystery here is how society manages to turn a blind eye on the actions of the ultra-rich.”

Ben pauses, cocking his head. A slow smile curls his lips.

“Your friend Five says that we all need to eat the rich and that I have his full permission to use his body and your show as a vehicle for justice.”

“Vehicle for justice, I’m all for that,” Diego says as he reaches forward. Ben flinches back in Five’s body, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Calm down, just making sure the mic is picking everything up.” Diego glances up at Elliot, taking in his nod of approval. “Well, it seems we’re all good. Cameras are rolling, just…go for it.”

Ben nods, pushing Five’s hair back away from his forehead and taking a deep breath.

“It all started in 1989, when Reginald Hargreeves decided that he wanted to adopt some children and train them to save the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the iconic bfu flashlight scene at the sallie house had too much comedic potential for me not to write it in here


	11. (18) Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison and Luther have a chat and finally get their dance. An AU where the Umbrella Academy returns to the correct timeline and there’s no Sparrow Academy. (Post-Season 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this while lying on the floor of my sister’s bedroom, surrounded by fairy lights and listening to billie holiday play on a record player and i gotta say, it was a vibe

“Need some help with those?”

Allison jumps, her posture relaxing as she sees Luther leaning against the kitchen doorframe.

“Oh! That’d be nice.” She beckons him over, handing him a towel. “You know where everything goes.”

Luther nods and they fall into a steady rhythm of washing and drying, accompanied by the low croon of music on the record player across the room. Allison sways a little to the music as she hums along, causing Luther to crack a smile.

“Billie Holiday, huh?”

“Yeah, it just makes the dishes a little more romantic,” Allison says with a soft laugh, running another plate under the water. “And you know how dishes are, they need as much help as they can get.”

“Oh, I don’t know, dishes are alright,” Luther says, shrugging nonchalantly.

Allison snorts. “Only a weirdo would say that.”

Luther hums, fixing her with a thoughtful look. “You doing alright?

“Yes? What makes you ask?”

“You just…do things when you’ve got a lot on your mind. And you’ve definitely been keeping busy,” Luther says with a nod towards the stack of serving platters sitting on the counter. “I think you’ve made dinner for us every night you haven’t been in L.A. with Claire.”

“Yeah, well, ever since we got back, it’s just been…” Allison pauses, pursing her lips as she scrubs a glass. Luther waits patiently, holding his hand out.

“So much has changed in so little time, and I just want to make sure I get to live it all, you know?” She says, avoiding Luther’s gaze as she hands him the glass. “I don’t want to miss any more than I already have.”

“You know you don’t have to break your back to do that, right? We’d like to take care of you too, see you relax every once in a while.”

“I know, I know,” Allison huffs, smiling as Luther bumps his hip gently against hers. “I just…want to make sure that I do it right.”

“Well, I think you’re doing just fine,” Luther says softly. Allison hums appreciatively.

“Thanks.” She pauses, about to grab another plate before suddenly turning the water off. She turns to face Luther, hip pressed against the counter. “Are we…okay?”

Luther blinks. “Sorry?”

“We… we didn’t get a lot of time to talk about it, what with the apocalypse and all in 1960, but…” Allison gestures helplessly between the two of them before crossing her arms over her chest, biting her lip nervously. “Ray said you seemed upset when you met him. Said you were unhappy that I was married.”

“Oh.” Luther’s eyes widen. “ _Oh_ , yeah, yeah, that was a—a rough day all around.” He chuckles nervously, drying his hands off on a towel as he avoids Allison’s gaze.

“Are you _upset_ with me?” She says, tilting her head in an attempt to catch his gaze. Luther jolts, hands flying up defensively.

“What? No, no, _never_ , Allison, I could never be upset with you for something like that.” Luther’s fingers curl as his hands drop. He laughs nervously. “I, uh, well, this is gonna come out weird, because I haven’t thought it through completely, but…” He works his jaw, thinking hard.

“Seeing you get married, to Patrick, made me angry, at first. Like I’d been betrayed. I felt that way about Ray initially too. But then I thought about it more, and I realized that anger I’d felt was all I knew how to feel in the beginning. Growing up here, there just wasn’t much room to feel, y’know? I hadn’t _lived_ life until Five dropped me in the middle of 1960…” Luther trails off, eyes widening as he suddenly shakes his head in a panic.

“And I’m not angry at him for that! In all honesty, I’m grateful, in a way,” he says with a small chuckle. “There’s so much out there to experience, and what we experienced in the Umbrella Academy barely scratches the surface of what life has to offer, in terms of emotions and people and…”

“I changed Allison,” Luther says softly. “I learned things and I used that time away from everyone to think about how we grew up, how I saw things then compared to now. What I’m trying to say is that I love you.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “But not in a romantic way. I’m sorry. Though, I promise you’re still my favorite sibling. That won’t ever change—”

He stops, eyes widening as Allison reaches up on the tips of her toes and wraps her arms around him.

“Oh Luther, I love you too. And I’m so, so proud of you.” She pulls away, giving him a watery smile as she touches his cheeks. “You’ve grown so much, it’s like I barely know you.”

Luther chuckles, shaking his head. “Still the same, just more adult-y now.”

Allison buries her quiet laughter in Luther’s chest. The song on the record changes, both of them shifting instinctively as Allison peeks up at him.

“You know, we never got that dance together. All those years ago,” she murmurs, a playful glint in her eyes.

“You still remember that?”

“Of course.”

Luther laughs, shaking his head as he pulls away. “Well, Allison Hargreeves,” he says, hand stretching out to her. “Will you dance with me?”

Allison takes his hand, leaning into them as they sway slowly to the music. “Always.”


	12. (21) Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya can’t always remember things. An AU where the Umbrella Academy returns to the correct timeline and there’s no Sparrow Academy. (Post-Season 2)

Luther looks around the living room, brows furrowed as he scans the tabletops. He should have put the notebook here; he _knows_ he put it somewhere around here. Maybe the kitchen?

“Hey Vanya, have you seen my notebook anywhere?” Luther calls as he ducks into the kitchen. “I had a recipe in there I wanted to try for tonight’s family dinner—”

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

Luther freezes, turning to see Vanya staring at him. Her eyes are wide, not with fear, but confusion as she stands uneasily in the middle of the room, shifting from one foot to another. Her posture is markedly different, the curve of her shoulders straighter than usual.

“Luther,” he says carefully, making sure to keep his expression as open and as kind as possible. “What’s your name?”

“Vanya. I think? I don’t,” she pauses, licking her lips nervously. “I don’t know where I am. What is this place?”

Luther had heard his other siblings talk about this behind closed doors. Hell, Five had walked up to him and explained (very patiently, because Five has always had a little more patience for anything involving Vanya’s well-being) that Vanya’s amnesia would relapse at random intervals. That you had to talk her down very carefully and, gently, jog her memory and give her time to try and collect herself without startling her.

Luther steels himself, putting on a considering expression to mask his nervousness. He isn’t the best for this job, given their history but…he has to try.

“You’re at the Umbrella Academy Manor. At least, it used to be?”

Vanya tilts her head. “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of that before. The Umbrella…Academy?”

“Yeah. Stupid name, right?”

“I actually think it sounds pretty cool,” Vanya says, smiling shyly up at Luther. “Are you a member?”

Luther lets out an uncomfortable chuckle as he gestures to the kitchen chairs, both of them taking a seat. “I used to be. When it was still a thing.”

“Oh.” She peers up at him, noticing his discomfort. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop asking about it.”

“No, no it’s alright. I don’t mind talking about it, it’s just…People don’t really bring it up anymore. It wasn’t a good time,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “The Umbrella Academy was a team of kids brought together by our dad to fight crime. Long story short, the whole affair kinda messed us all up. In more ways than one.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Vanya murmurs. “I can’t imagine what that’d be like.”

“You’d be surprised.” Luther’s eyes widen as he shakes his head. “Sorry, I just meant, uh, it was pretty bad. We did some shitty things.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. We were kids, being mistreated by our dad, and we…” Luther pauses before sighing internally. What the hell, why not?”

“We treated each other badly. Especially one of our sisters, it was just….It wasn’t good. We didn’t know any better and we just messed up. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” Luther says with a frown, looking down at Vanya. “Those mistakes were bad, and we’re owning up to them. I’m still trying to figure out how to make up for it all,” he says, letting out a sheepish noise as he rubs the back of his neck.

“But I’d like to think that we’ve grown now, learned how to be kind so we can work towards making up for it all. It’s not easy, but I think we all love each other enough to try our best.”

Luther looks up from where his gaze had been pinned to her left shoulder, nearly startling as he meets her gaze. Vanya’s looking at him in a way that’s almost uncomfortably knowing, baring his soul to her and all his deep thoughts within.

And suddenly, the look vanishes, replaced with a quiet discomfort. Her face slackens before tightening up again, hands clasping tight in her lap.

“That’s…that’s really nice to hear,” she murmurs, lower lip trembling. Luther reaches out before freezing.

“Vanya?” He says tentatively. She nods jerkily, shoving her hand across her face to wipe away her tears.

“Are you alright?”

“Luther, I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me there.” She moves a little stiffer now, tenser around him. Luther forces himself to relax, to open himself up to be as non-threatening as possible.

“Things coming back to you?” He says carefully. Vanya nods.

“Yeah, I remember some of it now.”

“Good, that’s good—”

Luther startles as Vanya leaps forward to hug him, forehead pressed against his chest as her fingers tighten against his jacket.

“Thank you,” Vanya mutters, words muffled against the cloth. “For being so patient. I know it must be hard.”

“It’s worth the effort. You’re worth the effort,” Luther says, carefully wrapping his arms around her.


	13. (23) Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five apologizes and gets the hugs he deserves. (Post-Season 2)

“This is the Sparrow Academy.”

The siblings turn, eyes wide as they take in the scarlet-uniformed members towering over them on the balcony.

“Shit,” Diego mutters.

“Fuck _this_. I need to think,” Five hisses, throwing his hands up in the air before storming out of the room. Vanya rushes after him, the other siblings quickly following behind. Allison whips around, pointing her finger at Reginald

“We’re not done here. We’ll be back,” she says menacingly, giving him a cold look before turning on her heel. She ducks through the door that Luther holds open for her and they catch with the rest of their siblings, trailing after Five as he stalks briskly down the sidewalk.

“Shit, man, what the hell do we do now?” Diego says, looking around them. “Everything looks kind of the same, but it could be totally different.”

Vanya wrinkles her nose. “Are we in a different…timeline?”

“I don’t know, I don’t _know_.” Five pushes his hands through his hair frantically before ticking off on his fingers. “All I know is that something I wrong, I don’t know what it is, and I need to think.”

“Well, in the meantime we should try and figure out what we’re going to do?” Luther’s brow furrows as they all look up at him in exasperation. “I meant like the essentials. Food, shelter—”

“We need money,” Klaus finishes, nodding sagely.

“I can do that,” Allison says with a grimace. “We get money, we get a place, and then?”

“Confront Dad? Who isn’t our Dad.” Luther turns helplessly to Five. “Right?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay?” Five whips around, expression manic as his mouth curls in a snarl. “I don’t have the fucking answer! I might be the oldest here, but I’m not some all-seeing god! I can’t tell the future, I don’t know if our timeline even exists now, and I don’t know what the hell is going on, okay?”

“I just need all of you to get out of the way, stop asking me questions, and let me _think_. I need to think more this time, because apparently I didn’t do it right the last fucking time! I can’t get this right and it’s _killing_ me and all I keep doing it fucking it all up for everyone!”

Five’s chest heaves as he takes a shuddering breath, the fire in his eyes suddenly dying.

“That’s all I’ve done. Just make things worse. Shit, I’m sorry,” he mutters, taking a shuddering breath as runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll fix this, I _promise_.” His voice cracks as he turns away. His body tenses, back hunching in a familiar stance as his feet shift against the concrete. In a split second, the air around him begins to buzz with a static energy that raises the hair at the back of everyone’s necks.

“Not so fast, mister,” Allison says sharply, catching Five by the arm before he can warp away. Five whips around, yanking his wrist out of her grip.

“What, you want to _stop_ me? Don’t you want to see Claire again?”

Klaus winces. “Too soon, Five.”

“Yeah.” Allison lets out a heavy sigh before tugging Five towards her. He stumbles forward, losing his balance enough that he lands in Allison’s waiting arms with a surprised _oof_.

“I wanna get out of here and see Claire again more than I can say. But we have time for a hug. We have time for _you_ , Five,” Allison murmurs, pulling him closer with careful arms. Five holds himself stiffly before suddenly relaxing, shoulders shaking as he grips the back of her jacket in a surprising display of emotion.

“We really don’t,” Five says weakly, voice muffled by her jacket. He jolts as he feels the others gather around him, 5 pairs of arms enveloping him a large, warm, cramped embrace. Five looks up. “We don’t have _time_ for this shit—”

“Oh, just shut up and let us show you we care, for once,” Diego snaps half-heartedly, gently knocking the heel of his palm against Five’s forehead.

“You got us into all this, Five,” Vanya says gently, managing to poke her head over Luther’s arm. “But you’ve also gotten us out multiple times. And you’ve been doing it on your own.”

“You deserve to not have to do this on your own, Five,” Klaus says, tone uncharacteristically sober and sincere. “This time, we’re gonna do it together.”

“Together,” Five murmurs, eyes clamping shut as he feels his eyes water. He shoves his face into Allison’s shoulder, praying the tears won’t fall.

“Together sounds nice,” he says thickly. “That sounds really nice.”


	14. (24) Fraud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya and Klaus have a heart-to-heart. (Pre-Season 1)

“Klaus, everyone’s sneaking out to Griddy’s,” Vanya says, soft and hesitant. “Are you coming?” 

Klaus doesn’t lift his head as he feels a gentle touch to his shoulder. He buries his face deeper into his arms.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Oh. I’ll let them know.”

Klaus hears Vanya walk towards the door, his shoulders sinking as the murmur of voices outside his door grows and then slowly fades.

_Of course she would leave. Why wouldn’t she?_

A floorboard creaks a little further down the hall, followed by a muffled shushing noise. Klaus lets out a hollow laugh as he leans back, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He yelps, jumping as he sees Vanya peering at him from the doorway, deathly still as she watches him.

“ _Vanya_. Please, warn a guy.” Klaus puts on the most affronted tone he can, though he beckons her forward with a smile to soften it. His heart lightens as she steps forward, settling herself neatly on the floor before tucking her legs under her.

“I told them I didn’t feel like going,” Vanya says with a shrug, lips curling into a smile. Klaus laughs, lacing his fingers behind his head as he leans back casually.

“You lied to them? For little ol’ me?” He drawls with an affected Southern accent. Vanya snorts, flicking her finger against his knee.

“Don’t be a weirdo. And besides, I wasn’t lying. I felt like staying.” She nods, like it’s as simple as that. She wanted to stay, so she did.

“Why didn’t you want to go? You normally do,” Vanya says after a beat, peeking at him from under her bangs.

“I felt like staying,” Klaus parrots, trying not to flinch at Vanya’s raised brow. “Just…” Klaus waves his hand carelessly. “Not in the mood to socialize.”

Both of Vanya’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs.

“Cut the crap,” she says, and it’s so odd, hearing curse words come out of her mouth (it’s barely a curse, but _still_ ). That, combined with the way she says it, still very prim and elegant despite the crudeness of her words, makes Klaus let out a surprised laugh.

“ _Vanya_ ,” he says, placing a hand on his chest as his eyes widen in mock astonishment. “You’ve been spending too much time with dear Number Five.”

Vanya blushes, trying to hide her smile. “You’re changing the subject, Klaus,” she says despite that, so gentle and earnest that Klaus cracks. Just a little. But it’s enough that what comes out of his mouth is raw and honest, infinitely more so than usual.

“It felt wrong,” he says, slouching against the side of the bed. He pauses, opening the air so Vanya can cut in like the good sister she is to reassure him that he’s always valued and welcome. But she says nothing, only looking thoughtfully at him as she waits patiently for him to continue. It’s unnerving enough that he speaks again, trying to fill the awkward pause. Silence is bad; you hear things you don’t want to in the silence, so there’s nothing left to do but for him to talk.

“I’m a fraud, Vanya.”

At that she cocks her head. “How so?”

“I can’t do anything. I’m the most useless member of the Umbrella Academy, I just sit there and take whatever Dad feels like dishing out to me without delivering, retaliating, _anything_.” His fingers curl, the backs of his hands flat against the cool hardwood floor. “Everyone else swans around here with their useful powers doing useful things that are amazing and then we all come together and I just feel so out of place. I talk and try to take up as much space as I can when I’m with everyone, because what else can I do? Nothing,” he spits out, clenching his hands in fists. His nails dig into his palms.

“You want to know how I’m a fraud? I can’t do anything worthwhile. I shouldn’t be a part of the Umbrella Academy. I don’t know why Dad doesn’t just leave me alone, like you.” Klaus glances up as he hears her inhale quietly. “I know that wasn’t nice but that’s what I think. What goes on in my brain isn’t nice, Vanya.”

“Okay then. Do you want to know what I think?” Vanya says, straightening slightly as she looks him square in the eye. Klaus shrugs, letting himself slide down from his slumped sitting position to lie flat on the ground. He spreads his arms wide like a starfish, knocking her knees with his elbow.

“Dish it out. Lay it _on_ me, sis.”

“I don’t think Dad would be training you if he didn’t think you were useful.”

Klaus hums. “Practical. That’s dear old Dad.”

Vanya nods, shifting so that she’s laying on her stomach, peering down at him as she props her face up in her hands.

“There’s more, though.” She looks at him, expression serious. Klaus decides that needs to change immediately. He can’t have his sister looking that upset.

“Oh?” Klaus reaches up, managing to tweak her nose before Vanya bats his hand away with a giggle. “And what’s that?”

“I think you’re useful beyond what you think you need to prove yourself to Dad. To us.” Vanya grabs his hand, tangling their fingers together.

“Life is hard. And there’s not a lot of good things in it. But you make it feel better, Klaus. You make me laugh, you make life a little better, a little brighter. If we use that metric, you’re the best of us all.”

She says those words and it’s like a punch to Klaus’s gut. Simple words that hit right where it hurts.

“You’re not a fraud,” she says earnestly at his silence, expression insistent. “Not where it _matters_.”

Klaus closes her eyes for a moment, trying to center himself. People don’t…say things like that in this household. Nice things, things that warm your heart and make your lungs squeeze with affection. Vanya’s the exception, of course, and Klaus has never been more aware of that.

He tries to think of something to say. Not just an easy quip, but something meaningful, something deep that conveys to her how much he appreciates her words, her kindness. Something that communicates how alike they are and how grateful he is that they’re alike, because it gives him hope that he might turn out a little less fucked up than he should, that they’ll survive this dismal, cold world they’re growing up in.

But he can’t think of anything that can do that justice.

“Your pep talks are much better than Luther’s,” Klaus says instead, voice thick with emotion. Though, Vanya seems to pick up on what he’s trying to convey, judging by how her face melts into a gently affectionate expression.

“Maybe he just needs a good pep talk to inspire him,” she hums, shifting to curl next to him. Klaus makes a noise, squeezing her hand tightly.

“Thanks,” he whispers into the silence the follows, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“Of course. And we can enjoy some doughnuts when they get back, yeah?”

Klaus gives her an odd look, prompting Vanya to shrug. There’s a mischievous look in her eyes, a little too similar to the one that Klaus sees in Ben’s eye when he’s about to blow Klaus’s mind with a weird nerdy fact he read in some book.

“I told Five to bring back our favorite flavors. And he will.” Vanya gives him a smug smile, laughing as Klaus gathers her up in his arms with an excited noise.

“You’re the. Best. Sister. Ever,” he declares, pressing a smacking kiss to the crown of her head. Vanya giggles, satisfied.

“Don’t let Allison hear you say that.”


	15. (25) Paradox Psychosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paradox psychosis round 2, but with Ben this time. An AU where the Ben is resurrected following his time in Vanya’s mind (Continuation from Day 8: Reunion). (Post-Season 2)

“Dad, who the hell are these assholes?”

The siblings turn, jaws dropping as they see the man standing before him. His hair is cut loose, swept messily over his forehead, and the scar on his face stands out sharply against his skin. But the uncanniness is unmistakable; that’s _Ben_.

Klaus’s eyes widen as he holds his hands up. “Okay, hold the _phone_ —"

“Who the hell are _you_?” Ben snaps, pushing Klaus aside as he steps forward. The man’s eyes bug out as he sees Ben, fingers clenching into fists as he steps forward with a snarl.

“Oh no,” Luther says faintly, glancing down. “Five—"

“I know, I _know_.” Five disappears in a flash of blue light, reappearing between Ben and his doppelganger. “Ben,” Five says lowly, pinning him with a sharp stare, “you need to—”

“I _need_ to know who the hell this guy is. Your hair is atrocious, get a trim, Jesus,” Ben hisses to his double. The man bares his teeth.

“Excuse you, I don’t take fashion tips from repressed goody two-shoes who think wearing all black leather makes them tough.”

Diego lets out a laugh that he quickly smothers with a cough. Ben turns, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shoots Diego a glare.

“Five, the itching.”

“I _know_. Ben,” Five snaps, gripping his arm, “you need to calm down. You’re meeting another version of yourself, and you’re experiencing paradox psychosis.”

“The hell is that?” they say simultaneously, scowling at each other.

“You’re another version of me? Like from another timeline—"

“Sure, whatever, it’d be easier to wrap your head around if you were smarter—"

“I’ll give you something to wrap your head around, you—”

“I’d like to see you try, you look like I could knock you out in a—"

“Christ, can we just separate these two for like, an hour?” Allison groans, throwing her hands him.

“No, I’m not letting that guy out of my sight,” Ben hisses. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple as the other Ben swallows dryly, leveling Ben with a piercing glare.

“Your siblings seem to think you need to be babysat, you clearly can’t handle yourself—"

“Fuck you, I can _handle_ myself. You think I don’t have control—”

“Five, what’s going on?” Diego says slowly, hand moving to a knife as Ben reaches out, a fury in his eyes like they’ve never seen before. Five sighs, yanking Ben back before blinking to Reginald’s side.

“We,” Five hisses, gesturing back to his siblings with his finger, “will be back. And then we’re going to have a nice, long _talk_. But for now, I need to make sure my newly resurrected brother doesn’t try to murder his alternate self.”

Five yanks Ben away, dragging him out the front door of the manor that’s no longer their home. The siblings follow, all 7 of them hurrying along the sidewalk.

“Guys! We need to figure out how someone stole my identity,” Ben yelps, unable to wrench his gaze away from the Academy’s gates.

Five groans. “Clearly, we fucked this up again, somehow.”

“Two Bens,” Klaus says morosely, cradling his chin in his hand. “Two Bens harping on my ass. This day couldn’t get worse.”


	16. (28) Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allison gets her closure with Ray. An AU where the Umbrella Academy returns to the correct timeline and there’s no Sparrow Academy. (Post-Season 2)

The invitation in Allison’s hand flutters with the weak breeze that cuts across the lawn. Above her, the hot Dallas sun beats down on her neck, but she ignores it, walking towards the funeral that’s dispersing with firm purpose in her step.

That’s the only way she can approach it. With purpose, with drive, drawing upon the strength deep inside her to move forward. Or maybe it isn’t strength. Maybe it’s just rote habit; left leg out, heels first, toes down, calm, purposeful. Rinse and repeat. Keep walking, keep breathing, don’t stop, _don’t_ stop.

She does almost stop when she gets close enough to catch a very familiar gaze. Odessa. So much older, hunched over and wrinkled with age. But that flame, that confidence in her eyes is still very much alive.

“Allison? How…” she says, voice tremulous as she reaches for Allison. Allison steps closer, letting Odessa’s now gnarled hands grip her arms as she looks her up and down.

“You don’t look a day older than when I last saw you.” Odessa lets out a disbelieving laugh, waving her hand. “I don’t know how you’re here looking as you are, but I don’t know if I have the strength to ask, Lord help me.”

Allison shrugs helplessly. “If I explained, I don’t think you’d believe me.”

“You’d be surprised, dear.” Odessa levels her with a look just as she used to when Allison worked for her, so sharp and so clever and strong that it makes Allison’s heart ache. It’s so strange, missing a life she just left hours ago. People aren’t meant to feel this way; people aren’t meant to live life this way, with so much pain that can’t be explained.

“Did Ray…” Allison’s gaze flicks behind Odessa to the burial site, grave surrounded by bouquets. “What did Ray tell you?”

“He said you had to go. Said you needed to go where you belonged. We thought you cheated and left, but Ray was adamant. Said you two loved each other more than we could ever know. Never remarried, that man. Faithful to the end.”

“Oh, Ray…”

“He did…he did leave something for you.” Odessa turns, digging through her handbag to hand Allison an envelope. “Held out the hope that you’d find him. I guess we all did,” she says with a small chuckle.

Allison takes the envelope with a breathless laugh, but she doesn’t open it. It stays in her purse, untouched even after lunch with Odessa, a reunion dinner with the remaining members of the movement, a restless sleep, and an even more restless flight back to the Academy.

It isn’t until she’s sitting at her desk in her childhood room that she opens the letter, fingers trembling as she slices the envelope open ever so carefully. The handwriting is familiar, so much so that Allison closes her eyes, trying to collect herself.

_My darling;_

_A black President, in the White House. What a crazy thing, to see that happen in my lifetime. You were right, all those years ago. The fights that matter most need to be fought, no matter how hard they are, and I’m grateful to have learned that._

_My time’s almost up, I can feel it. My one regret is that I didn’t get to see you before I head off to my next journey. Next best thing I can give you is this, in the hopes that it’ll find you and you’ll know that I spent every day of my life still loving you after you left. I may be gone now, but I’m still here, still loving you all the time. Can you feel it? I bet you can, I was never a subtle man._

_The time I had with you changed my life. I hope it changed yours too. I hope you and your family are doing well, wherever you may be when this finds you. And I hope that you remember you are brave, strong, and loved by many. I may have promised you the moon, but baby you don’t need it at all. Day or night, you shine brighter than anything up there in the sky. I love you._

_Always yours, Ray_

The paper crinkles between Allison’s fingers as her hands shake.

“I love you too, Ray,” she whispers, tracing the familiar slant of his name beneath her fingertips. If she focuses hard enough, it feels almost like Ray’s skin, soft and warm and so right, arms wrapped around her in an embrace. The most secure feeling she’s ever known.

A tear falls, smearing words against paper in a pool of ink, water, and regret.

“I love you too.”


	17. (30) Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben has a conversation with the beings living inside him. Sort of. (Pre-Season 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> insert my undying gratitude to meredith, who suggested a new direction for this prompt that pushed me to write it all in an hour ♡

Ben recoils, looking up at the tentacle curled in the air above him. He’s scared. _God_ , he’s so scared. He shouldn’t be, since the tentacles are a part of himself. They _are_ him. But he’s still scared.

The tentacle above him shifts, slow in its movements. Ben can see remnants of blood from their mission earlier today, dried streaks running down the sides of its flesh.

He’s learned over time that the tentacles aren’t all alike. They look different in their own subtle ways, and they have different preferences. Some like to tear off limbs. Some like to twist peoples’ necks until they snap. And some just like to dig deep under people’s skin, burying themselves in flesh and blood. The one before him is of the latter kind, sly and unassuming and harmless until it’s the right time to strike.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Ben whispers, hands clenching into fists at his sides. His voice shakes just enough to make the statement unconvincing.

The tentacle waves in the air lazily, as though uncaring of what Ben thinks of it.

“It’s true,” Ben insists, sitting up straighter on his bed. The tentacle moves, accommodating to Ben’s movements and maintaining itself at his eye level. It stands there, holding Ben’s gaze silently.

Ben’s taken to making up conversations in his mind between himself and the tentacles. It’s probably not healthy, to personify the beings within him that rip and tear at human flesh in a way that always makes his stomach turn. But there’s only so much he can confide in his siblings before it becomes too much to discuss. They’re all so terrible with emotions, barely sure of how to handle their own without the added weight of Ben’s troubles. So he makes up for it and does what he can.

“I told you. I’m not _scared_.”

Ben narrows his eyes, surveying the appendage in front of him as his mind supplies the words to their conversation.

_You’re always scared. I can tell._

No, that’s too cruel and forward. That doesn’t feel right.

_You don’t have to be afraid. We’re the same._

Ben bares his teeth. He doesn’t need to be reminded by his own mind that he’s a monster, thank you very much. One more attempt.

_You’re allowed to be scared. Don’t we all fear things we don’t understand?_

Ben tilts his head, gaze turning thoughtful at his mind’s attempt at supplying a response. Alright, he’ll pursue this line of thought.

“What is there to understand? You want to kill, so you do. And you make my life hard.”

_And you make our lives easy? You don’t want to kill, so you stop us._

“That’s because it’s _wrong_ ,” Ben hisses.

_Is it? Is it wrong that your shoes crush blades of grass beneath your feet? Trampling them into the dirt where they can’t rise again? Is it wrong that you pull food from the ground, tearing them from their lives in order to sustain yourself?_

“That’s—”

_It really isn’t different._

Ben crosses his arms over his chest, a muscle in his jaw clenching. That’s enough of this conversational line of thought, he has better things to do, a book on philosophy Five recommended sitting on his desk—

_Do you think that running away from your problems constitutes a solution?_

“I’m not running away.”

_What do you call shutting down a conversation you don’t want to have?_

Ben’s lip curls in a snarl. “Self-care.”

_Reluctance to confront your fears._

“Protection.”

_Cowardice._

“I’m _not_ a coward,” Ben snaps, leaning forward as his gaze burns with anger. The tentacle does not move.

_Then prove it._

“Fine!” Ben throws his hands up in the air. “Fine. You like to kill. I don’t like to kill. It’s a problem, because I’m put in situations where I need to kill but I still try to hold you back from doing so.”

His mind supplies no response. Ben huffs out a frustrated exhale, running his hands through his hair.

“I don’t like the killing. It’s not who I am. It’s not who I want to be.”

_Who’s to say that you’re a killer?_

“Do you— _seriously_? You’re a part of me, I’m a part of you. We’re the same thing, two halves that can’t be separated. And you kill people. Ergo, I’m a killer.”

_Do you enjoy poetry?_

Ben recoils in confusion. “ _What_?”

There comes no response. Ben rolls his eyes.

“No, it’s not my thing.”

 _We like it. Ask us if we enjoy history_.

Ben’s brow furrows as he leans back on his hands. “Do you…like history?”

_No. We despise it. But you like it._

Ben waits for an explanation, but none comes. He lifts a hand, gesturing impatiently.

“So, the point of that was…”

_Your logic was flawed from the start. If you took the time to ask, to understand, you would realize that we are not inseparable. We are not the same._

Ben opens his mouth to speak, frowning as his mind whirls in thought.

_Does a worm burrowing beneath a human’s skin become one with the body? Are they so intertwined that they cannot be distinguished from each other? Does the mistletoe clinging to a tree no longer qualify as a parasite?_

_The parasites do not cease to be such when they attach to their host. They are still different beings, merely bound together by necessity._

“You’re not making yourself look good, calling yourself a parasite,” Ben says, amused.

 _You are a parasite to us as much as we are to you. You are not superior to us_.

“This isn’t a mutualistic relationship.”

_You’re being narrow-minded._

“Fuck you,” Ben says angrily, waving his hand sharply. The tentacle shifts, almost like a head tilting in thought.

_Once you separate yourself and see us as distinct from you, you may be able to better handle your concerns regarding our…inclinations._

“I doubt that,” Ben says sharply, turning away to grab at his covers. “I won’t ever accept killing as a good solution.” He wills the tentacle back into his stomach, feeling it slink back in as he slides under the covers, tugging them over his head.

 _We don’t need you to accept it. Merely think about it. For now_.

“I won’t.” Ben squeezes his eyes shut, shutting the conversation down. But the damage is done. He can feel his mind turning over the results of this conversation, tossing it hand to hand before rotating it, examining it from all sides.

It’s not totally flawed; there’s some valid reasoning to it all. As much as he doesn’t want to, he’ll definitely be thinking about this.


	18. (31) Sparrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hazel and Agnes, after escaping the apocalypse. (Post-Season 1)

“That’s all of it. That’s why that all…happened,” Hazel says with a helpless wave of his hand, gaze trained resolutely up in the trees behind their cabin rental. He flicks his gaze to the right, watching as Agnes purses her lips before nodding evenly.

“I see.”

“That’s it?” Hazel twists around in his chair, wincing at the twinge in his back. “You’re not…you’re not _upset_?”

Agnes gives him a helplessly amused smile. “Why would I be?”

“Agnes, I was a contract killer for an interdimensional organization that was responsible for maintaining the space-time continuum!” He raises his hand, ticking off his fingers. “Not to mention that I asked you to quit your job without telling you about the apocalypse, abandoned you at the hotel which led to you getting held hostage, and then I nearly _killed_ you fighting my partner, and _then_ you watched me shoot my boss right in front of you!” Hazel inhales heavily, looking at her. “I would be more than upset, if I were you. Hell, I’m concerned that you’re not ready to leave me right now.”

Agnes raises her hand, tapping her knuckles against his as she raises her fingers, mimicking him. “You were a contract killer who eventually grew to realize that this wasn’t what you wanted out of life. You didn’t tell me about the apocalypse because you wanted me to be happy, I got held hostage because you were too good of a person to kill your partner, and everything else, well,” Agnes abandons the numbers as she waves her hand, “we’re not perfect people, are we?”

“Are you an undercover agent too? You’re too unfazed by all that violence and death for it to be normal,” Hazel says eyes narrowing. Agnes laughs, leaning back in her chair.

“Hazel, sometimes when you’ve experienced life as long as I have, things don’t scare you as much as they should. My café got shot up, for goodness sakes. It’s been a strange week.”

“You’re taking this better than I expected. Now I’m feeling nervous,” Hazel mumbles, hands folding in his lap.

“You forgot to consider that I care for you enough that I’m willing to look past things for you. Mostly. The space-time continuum thing…that’s probably what I’m most concerned about. But I can hardly blame you for that, can I?” Agnes hums, head tilting as she looks at him. Hazel stares at the floor.

“I’ve killed people Agnes. So many people.”

“We’ve all got our pasts, don’t we? And I saw you move past it all before my eyes, trying to be a better person.” She reaches out, curling her hand over Hazel’s. “We all deserve a second chance.”

“I think I’m well past second chances at this point,” he huffs, shaking his head.

“Well lucky for you, I’m a very forgiving person,” Agnes says cheerfully, shaking her birdwatching book open with her free hand. Hazel leans over, peering at the pages.

“Can you flip to the Worthen Sparrow’s page? I thought I saw one earlier, but I can’t be sure.”

Agnes’s eyes widen. “You did? They’re incredibly rare.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, I could just need glasses.”

“Glasses, wrist brace; my, my, you’re just a bundle of injuries,” Agnes says as she reaches up to pat his cheek. “Though, my ankles and back have been giving me trouble too, so maybe we’re just the right fit for each other.”

Hazel gives her a small smile, leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. Agnes giggles at the feeling of his beard tickling her skin.

“I love you,” he murmurs, low in her ear. She hums, squeezing his hand. Her head jerks up at the sound of a birdcall, fingers already thumbing through the book with all the ease and confidence of an expert.

“You were right! A Worthen’s sparrow. Goodness, you’re good at this.” Agnes beams at him, fumbling for her binoculars. Hazel smiles, watching her mouth curve into an excited smile as she squints through the lenses.

He doesn’t tell her that he’s been studying bird calls and feather patterns since they first sat together behind Griddy’s, just for her. He doesn’t tell her that he’s good at picking up on nuances in bird calls because it requires the same level of care and skill as listening for the whisper of movement that could spell life or death in his line of work.

He doesn’t tell her that every moment he spends with her is a battle. A battle against himself, fighting how he’s been taught to live, honed into a deadly weapon that has no time or use for love or happiness or pleasure. He doesn’t tell her how she inspires him to be better, how he’s promised himself that he’s going to take his hard edges, filed sharp for murder, and soften them just for her. It’s going to be a long journey. And a hard one.

He doesn’t tell her any of these things. But he will, someday. They have plenty of time for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's a wrap on my first prompt fill event! it was a lot of work but i enjoyed it and i'm proud of everything i put out!! thank you so much for taking the time to read my work, i appreciate it more than i can say ♡♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [ tumblr](https://shizuoi.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat about tua!


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